


Gut Feeling

by crookedspoon



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Cutting Your Loved One Open To See What They're Really Like Inside, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Established Relationship, Exposed Viscera As Erogenous Zone, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, The Purpose of Healing Magic is Definitely Consensual Guro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29191761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: Rufus finds Sephiroth trying to extract a bullet from his gut. Things get mildly out of hand.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Rufus Shinra
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	Gut Feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StormyDaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormyDaze/gifts).



> Hi, StormyDaze! I hope you don't mind a last-minute treat. I really loved your tags and used them as excuse to write some eroguro :')
> 
> Please mind the tags, y'all.

Rufus lets himself into Sephiroth's room in the SOLDIER quarters with the access key he'd lifted from his father. It rankles him that his father would have access to these parts when he does not – owning the building should not automatically grant him the power to invade people's living quarters at will, but that's an ethical issue to raise another time.

There are grunts coming from the bathroom.

Various channels had reported that Sephiroth was back from his mission, but Rufus has yet to receive a text or call from him personally. Which is odd. He usually notifies Rufus in some way while he's heading for a debrief with his superior.

Not this time. 

It was curious enough to make Rufus go check up on him.

The light in the bathroom is on, spilling into the bedroom through the not-quite-closed door. Inside, harsh breathing indicates Sephiroth's presence... and his preoccupation with something.

Rufus expects to walk in on him getting off. He's mistaken. Though the scene that greets him is no less hot.

The scent of blood is the first assault on his senses. The second is seeing Sephiroth sit on the edge of the bathtub, his back slumped against the wall, his naked torso glistening with sweat. Rufus stops dead in his tracks at the sight of those hands stained red, of that stream of blood running down the porcelain. His throat seizes instantly, his heart kicks at full-speed, his nostrils flare.

There's a small round hole in Sephiroth's abdomen that is seeping blood. Sephiroth has inserted a thin-bladed knife into it as though he were looking for something. A sharp spike of arousal shoots through Rufus.

He walks towards the tub as if in a trance, taking off his fingerless gloves and letting his coat drop behind him. He sits down at the rim, staring intently at the wound, then at Sephiroth. His eyes are glazed and gleaming.

"What happened?" he asks, placing his hand on Sephiroth's trembling knee.

"Nothing much," Sephiroth groans and his head tips back against the wall. "Lost my armour, got shot. The bullet's still inside, otherwise I would have cast Cure already."

He indicates the bangle on his right wrist, as if Rufus weren't familiar with it. Different materia are set in it: Lightning, Fire, Ice, and Healing.

Sephiroth pulls out the knife and holds out the handle toward Rufus. It's one of his own switchblades that he'd last seen when they had both been getting carried away in using it. The resulting bloodbath in the bedroom had been not unlike this.

"Will you do it?" Sephiroth asks him now.

Rufus would have preferred a pair of tweezers to a single knife, but this is more of a place that Sephiroth uses to shower and crash between missions. His hair products lining the bathtub are perhaps the only personal items Sephiroth stashes here.

Instead of taking the knife, Rufus undoes his cuffs and rolls his shirt up to his elbows. Courtesy of their Healing materia, they don't have to worry about infection, but Rufus gets up and washes his hands anyway.

"Let's get you somewhere more comfortable first. I can't get a good angle here."

"It's gonna make a mess," Sephiroth says, but heaves himself to his feet anyway, leaving bloody palm prints all over the white tiles. 

"Your bed is company-issue. You can have it replaced any time you like."

"They're going to start asking questions if I request a new mattress every week."

"They're not going to question _you,_ general. You're above reproach." Rufus plucks the knife from his fingers, its slick handle coating his palm with Sephiroth's warm blood, and helps him over the tub. "My advice? Don't get shot."

"Your wisdom astounds me, Rufus."

"Failing that, let yourself be treated in Medical."

"Too much red tape. I couldn't wait to see you. I knew you'd come by."

"And invest in plastic tarps. They make for easier cleaning."

"Now you're speaking my language."

As soon as he has both feet firmly on the bathroom floor again, Sephiroth pulls Rufus in for a kiss. It's feverish and urgent, and for a moment, Rufus forgets all about the bullet in Sephiroth's gut. 

"Missed you," Sephiroth murmurs. The thumbs on either side of his face slip along his jaw more than they stroke it.

"You're in pain," Rufus says, choosing to interpret that display of sentiment as a consequence of his blood loss. "Come."

Sephiroth is unsteady on his feet as Rufus herds him out of the bathroom. His legs are shaking with every step. Still, he doesn't ask Rufus to lend a hand, or a shoulder to lean on. Rufus offers it anyway.

It never fails to amaze him how readily he plays nursemaid for Sephiroth when he's gotten himself banged up a bit. It's not like he won't recover from a minor scrape like this, but Rufus has the distinct and uneasy feeling that he's acting like one of Sephiroth's fans – those who trip over themselves in their effort to please. It's a mildly annoying thought. There's no need for Rufus to do any of this – lay out of the bed with layers of towels to soak up some of the blood or have a bowl of hot water ready to clean once they're done. But the truth is he's _eager._ Seeing Sephiroth in pain, with open wounds no less, _does_ things to him.

Rufus undoes the knot of his tie and the topmost buttons of his shirt just to breathe a little easier. 

"Whenever you're ready," Sephiroth teases. If not for the sheen of sweat coating him and the crease between his brows – and yes, the round hole above his left hip that's still oozing blood – he might be lounging casually on the bed. His long silver hair is sliding down the pillow and off the bed, gleaming like a waterfall.

In theory, the operation should have been a short one: dig out the bullet, close the wound, and _voilà,_ good as new. Rufus had certainly expected it to be one. 

In practice, however, he spends too much time staring at the blood pulsing from the hole like water from a spring. He runs his fingers through it, drawing thick red lines across Sephiroth's stomach. It jumps beneath his touch. Sephiroth himself is biting his lip and breathing... not _deeply,_ but deliberately, as though to calm himself. 

He circles the wound, applying pressure here and there to get a feel for where the bullet might be. Sephiroth stifles his groans, but he can't keep his hips from twitching. Rufus is straddling them and every shift just makes him more aware of how hard Sephiroth is beneath him – how hard he himself is.

As he slips the blade of his knife into the wound, Rufus absently wonders what it must feel like. It's too small to slide his fingers inside and it's not polite to do so without warning, but Sephiroth might even let him if he asked. He already seems to be getting off on this more than a normal person would. Which reminds Rufus yet again that Sephiroth is far from normal. But he likes it that way. Never a dull moment.

When his knife tip hits upon the bullet, relief floods him. He thinks it's going to be over soon, that he can clean them off and douse his head with cold water.

But as soon as he's extracted the bullet, Sephiroth grabs his wrist. He fixates Rufus with eyes of green fire. Although his breath is ragged, his gaze is unwavering. It takes him a while to form his request.

"Cut me open," he says at last, his voice thick with desire.

Rufus doesn't know how to react to that. 'You're crazy'? 'Are you sure'? 'With pleasure'? It's one thing to nick his skin until he bleeds, but this? What is Sephiroth even saying?

"Please, Rufus. I want you to lay me bare. I can take it."

With his other hand, Sephiroth reaches down and pops open the button of his trousers. His fly all but bursts apart. Rufus is certain his own trousers must be as tight as that. Rufus sucks in a breath as Sephiroth's knuckles brush against the underside of his trapped cock. 

He doesn't know why he complies – perhaps because Sephiroth asked him to, perhaps because he himself yearns to do it – but he takes the knife and sets it back against the bleeding hole. Might as well use it to make the first cut.

Their gazes lock for an intense moment that seems to stretch on forever. Rufus can feel the adrenaline jangling his nerves. His hands are trembling, vibrating with energy. Though not as much as Sephiroth is. Time seems to slow when he nods and exhales shakily. 

Rufus gives an answering nod, though it's just another gesture to put off what has now become inevitable.

Steeling himself, he applies pressure and drags the knife from the bullet wound in a straight line across Sephiroth's stomach. The skin splits apart like paper and blood spills from the cut. So far, this is what he knows. What is new is the depth of the cut: Rufus can see the different layers of skin, some of it curiously orange and spongy. What's also new is the absolutely _filthy_ moan that all but drips from Sephiroth's mouth like sweet wine. His muscles bunch beneath the skin, pulling it further apart.

"Keep going," Sephiroth gasps, hands twisted in the sheets, and Rufus wonders whatever possessed him to think he might _stop_ now.

There's no stopping now until he knows Sephiroth inside and out.

Rufus carves through the muscle he had only grazed the first time around, fascinated by how much tissue he has to go through before he reaches Sephiroth's abdominal cavity. Beneath him, Sephiroth is writhing, rubbing their cocks together.

Rufus is beginning to see stars as he sets the blade of his gory knife on top of Sephiroth's sternum. His hand is dripping blood on Sephiroth's pale chest that has been unmarred up until now. The blood mixes with the beads of sweat trembling on his skin and rolls down the side of his ribs in red runnels.

Sephiroth is breathing sharply as Rufus drags the blade down his torso, bisecting it in the middle. A surge of pleasure crashes through Rufus to watch the red line grow wider. 

By the time this cut joins the first, sweat is prickling in his eyes. Absently, he wipes his brow with his forearm, no doubt smearing blood all across it. Not that it matters anymore. Blood is pooling around Sephiroth on all sides, seeping into the towels, the sheets, their clothes. Rufus has no idea how he intends to leave later. The white of his trousers is flecked with blotches of a deep, dark red he doesn't even want to subject his cleaners to anymore.

Sephiroth shudders out a breath.

"I feel more naked now than I ever have before." He laughs weakly.

"I haven't even peeled your skin aside," Rufus replies, and it's definitely strange to say those words with such nonchalance.

"What are you waiting for, then?"

"I don't know." Rufus strokes the skin next to the vertical cut almost reverently. Blood is beading along the edges of the cuts. Rufus runs his thumb over it. "Maybe I'm enjoying the anticipation."

"You may stop anticipating any moment now."

Rufus just nods. He's too geared up for words. This is almost like opening a present, though in this case the packaging is far more precious than what's inside, and yet Rufus carved it open anyway.

Sephiroth hisses as Rufus slips his thumbs beneath his skin. It's shockingly hot under there and the skin flaps are so slippery Rufus has to use both hands to peel them aside one after the other. It's not the smooth reveal he had envisioned, but the moment Sephiroth let out another one of his pornographic moans, everything else stopped mattering. 

"Fuck, that's cold," Sephiroth curses as his entire body jerks.

"Actually, your insides are rather hot," Rufus says and runs his finger over a slippery coil of gut.

"My insides already feel like they're drying out. It's a strange sensation."

"'Strange' is one way to describe being cut open."

The sight in front of him is definitely a strange one. Sephiroth is trembling and twitching and writhing, clenching and unclenching, slower than usual, but still too animated for what the hole in his torso suggests. The scene would be less unsettling if he weren't moving at all, but that version hides another possibility that Rufus doesn't want to contemplate. Better Sephiroth move and reassure him that he's still alive.

"Touch me again," Sephiroth moans. "That felt good."

Sephiroth's chest is rising and falling, swishing around some of the blood that has pooled in his abdomen. Rufus drags his fingers through it, painting the paler parts of Sephiroth's colon with a red so dark it's almost black. Sephiroth's hitching breath makes Rufus grow bolder. He sinks his hand into the mass of coiled gut, curving his fingers around the slick organ and stroking it gently.

Sephiroth throws his head back and arches his back into Rufus's touch. Rufus feels quite indecent like this, with his hand wrist-deep inside Sephiroth, but he's also insanely turned on by it. With his free hand, he somehow manages to open his trousers and free his erection. He didn't know what he was about to do until he's rubbing himself against the slippery ropes of colon he has tangled around his fingers.

Sephiroth keens. Whether from genuine pain or not, Rufus is too far gone to tell. Deep down he knows that if Sephiroth didn't want this, he'd find the strength to shove Rufus off of him. But he doesn't. He lets Rufus rub himself against his guts, even lets him wrap them around his cock as he's frantically getting himself off. That's all Rufus needs. 

His orgasm is swift and brutal. With a sharp cry, he comes so hard he spatters the wall with it. Some of it lands on Sephiroth's shoulder and his pillow. 

It takes a moment for Rufus to come back to himself, and when he does, he's disoriented all over again, curled over a handful of Sephiroth's guts as he is, shaking with his whole body and gasping for breath. He feels hollowed out even though he's not the one with their stomach hanging open. Which reminds him that he's still holding onto Sephiroth's insides. Gently, he places them back where they belong.

Sephiroth, too, is gasping for breath, if more shallowly than Rufus, and he's blinking up at the ceiling.

For a while, neither of them moves beyond catching their breaths and letting their hearts slow down. Rufus doesn't even dare to touch Sephiroth right now, as if that were somehow too much stimulation on top of everything else. He just stares at the mess in front of him.

"Would you perhaps..." Sephiroth asks eventually, snapping Rufus out of it. His voice is faint enough that Rufus barely makes out the syllables, but then Sephiroth waves his right wrist, calling attention to the bangle encircling it and Rufus catches on.

"Of course."

Rufus takes it and slips it on his own wrist. He focuses what's left of his energy into the Healing materia to cast Cure on Sephiroth. As though knowing what to do, his body knits itself together all by itself, the skin flaps slowly closing until the gaps between them come together and vanish without so much as a raised seam. All that's left is smooth skin and a liberal coating of blood. Rufus slides his hand over it to make sure the skin is whole again.

Sephiroth sighs. It's a bone-weary sigh that's mirrored in the way he's now bonelessly slumping on the pillow, too exhausted to move for anything in the world.

Rufus slips off the bed on rubbery legs. The water Rufus had set aside earlier is tepid now. Still, he quickly washes Sephiroth and himself, then pulls the soiled towels out from under Sephiroth. Inevitably, spots of red have soaked through to the mattress, but only in places. Enough to sleep on for one last night, at least.

With his body quivering minutely, Sephiroth looks like he might need more than that.

"Thank you," Sephiroth mumbles as Rufus finally slips in with him. "That was..."

"Yeah," Rufus agrees. There are no words to describe it. He only knows one thing for certain: "The pleasure was all mine."


End file.
